Kardia Mou
by Rosettaston3
Summary: SEQUEL TO EXPIATION Part 1. Harry and Ruth must deal with the past before they can be properly together.  Although not strictly necessary to read Expiation I, doing so should prove helpful in reading this fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Kardia Mou (title amended/orig. Redemption) ** Please note: Rated **M for mature**

Summary: Harry and Ruth must deal with the past before they can be properly together. (This is the sequel to Expiation; although not strictly necessary to read the last, nevertheless, it should prove helpful in reading this story.)

Disclaimer: Kudos owns Spooks/HR. _But _my heart_ feels as if they were mine._

_Prologue _

"It's nice, isn't it?" Ruth says, standing in in her small efficiency apartment, little more than a room, really. But the small space is filled with light, white light, and from the windows, a touch of blue from the Aegean Sea is visible in the distance. "Perfect, actually." She adds. Then she turns to him. "Thank you for finding it."

He nods stiffly. "I'm glad you like it, Ruth."

She sighs. "Harry. Please. You said…"

"I know what I said." He looks at her and forces a smile. "And I _am_ glad that you're pleased." He pauses for a moment. "I'll picture it when I'm home. With you in it, of course." He adds, his smile a bit warmer.

"Thank you." She glances at the small wall clock above the mini-fridge. "I think that we should get going."

He clears his throat. "About that..."

"No. Harry." She says, "I want to see you off."

He shakes his head a bit. "It would be better if you don't."

"But …"

"I'd rather you didn't. Really." He looks at her intently. "When you do come to the airport, it's to come home to me. For good."

She nods, a faint blush rising up on her cheeks.

"Remember you do have a home. Ruth. And…me. " He adds before turning to leave.

"I know that, Harry. I do."

He turns back to her. She is wearing the same outfit he first saw her in Crete, days ago when she was in such dire straits. So ill. Alone. Confused. And unkempt. But the long skirt and blouse are now spotless, thanks to Melia, the woman with whom Harry and Ruth stayed not long ago. Yet it isn't only the clean clothes that is different about her, of course. Her color is back, her hair shiny, and her remarkable eyes clear and as blue as the Aegean sea. She's put on a half a stone or so as well.

"You're staring at me, Harry." She says, cutting into his thoughts.

"Just trying to keep an image of you," he says. "Here." He places his hand on his heart.

She goes over to him, then. And just like she did whilst in hospital, she takes it and places it over her own heart. "Yes. Here. "

They stay like that for a long moment. Finally he says, "I don't really need to say how I feel, do I Ruth?"

She shakes her head. "No."

"Then see that you keep it in mind, will you?" He smiles, a truly genuine one this time. Then he turns away from her for good and walks out the door.

She turns from him, too. "_Kardia Mou_," she says, her hand on her heart. "_Kardia Mou." _

-end of prologue-

_Kardia Mou.. My (little) heart; term of endearment (obviously!)_

_:)  
_


	2. Chapter 2

_Kardia Mou: My heart; a term of endearment, obviously. :) _

Chapter 2

"My heart." She says now in English still holding her hand over her heart for a few more moments. Then she bows her head and drops her hand to her side. Sighing, she heads towards the kitchen sink, splashing some water on her face. As she picks her head up, the horizon of the Aegean Sea greets her through the window.

She smiles and reaching above, opens the window. The air wafts in, a heady mixture of the sea and herbs. Rosemary, thyme and sage and the tang of the sea infuses her tiny place almost immediately. She breathes in appreciatively. _Oh, Harry. If only you could …_

She shakes her head, then goes over to her mini-fridge. Opening it, she takes stock. Although tiny like the rest of her place, the fridge is brimming with healthful food: Feta cheese, yogurt, and spreads and dips like _tamara_ and _melitzana _ fill one entire shelf. Staples like fresh milk, eggs, and juice share another. The little vegetable drawer is filled with herbs and vegetables. Finally, an assortment of small jars of jams and jellies line the inside door. Still holding the door open, she takes in the large bowl on the counter right next to the fridge; it's filled with dates and figs. There's even an assortment of pita bread on top of the microwave next to the bowl. It's a far cry from her fridge at home, _so bare, so_ ….She tries not to think of how she was not so long ago at all.

Instead, she focuses on those items which might spoil if not frozen. That would be a shame, she thinks, especially since Harry spent so much time shopping for her, choosing each item with such obvious care. She smiles again at the image of him in a shop and taking care of her in the only way he can before leaving her. _Harry…_

She shuts the door to the fridge with a little too much force. Then scooping up her keys and grabbing her hat off of the counter, she heads out.

Although late fall, it is still warm during the day. Her little car, a Renault Clio, stares back at her. "Where to?" She says out loud when she reaches it. Then she looks around, smiling sheepishly. _They'll think I'm bonkers._ She thinks of the irony of that, given how far she's come since first arriving in Greece, confused and so lost. She shakes her head again. _Maybe I still am._

But the air is so clear, the light so bright, she puts all of that out of her mind. When she settles herself in the car, she begins to smile once more thinking of how she came to choose the Clio.

Only hours ago, she and Harry had gone into the car rental shop, passing a line of shiny mopeds right outside. Stopping in front of one particularly shiny one, she had run her hand over the glossy red paint. He was aghast. "Do you know how many accidents occur here because of these?"

"You mean like what happened on the mountain?" She had remarked, still admiring the motorbike. When she had finally taken note of the silence, she looked up at him. And it was only then that she had understood the effect of her words.

He had gone absolutely still. She was sure he had also stopped breathing, so still was he. She reached up then and touched his arm. "It's good that I didn't develop some kind of phobia about them, right? I mean, I have enough to ..." And she let the rest of it hang in the silence.

He nodded a bit, then."Yes. Of course. But these can be dangerous and ... "

"Don't worry," she said, her hand still on his arm. " I have no intention of renting one, Harry. I'm clumsy, enough," she had added. And smiled.

His defense of her was both automatic and swift. "You're not clum…. ." But a mere beat later, he had said, "Best not to rent one, Ruth." His tone was perfectly serious, but when she glanced up at him, she had taken note of the small smile playing around his mouth. She had smiled up at him then, inordinately pleased that she had become so attuned to him. And he to her, it seemed.

Sitting behind the wheel, the car running, she wonders now just when she had become so adept at reading his face. She wonders as well just when was it that her feelings for him had changed. When had she...

_Stop. You're acting like a schoolgirl. Pining over him. And stop seeing the word through Harry-tinted lenses._ And shoving the car in gear, she heads out to explore Crete.

* * *

Harry steps off the plane. It seems to him that everyone is wearing overcoats, Wellies, and carrying umbrellas. He navigates his way around the other passengers wheeling their luggage, mobiles pressed to their ears, snippets of their disembodied conversations floating in the air.

Stepping outside, he turns his collar up. His driver is nowhere to be found. He flips open his mobile, checking his messages. Except for a message from the Home Secretary and one from Dimitri, there are no other calls. _Too soon. Give her time. _ But he keeps his mobile in hand. A subtle honk gets his attention and a car pulls alongside him, saying, "Sorry, Sir Harry."

Harry shakes his head at his driver. "It's fine," he says, moving to the door. He steps into a puddle. _Bollocks_. Picking his foot up, he watches as the water streams off it.

He gets into the car and slams the door.

"Where to, Sir?"

"Thames House."

"Oh, and welcome, home, Sir, " his driver says. "I'm sure you're glad to be back."

"Right," Harry mutters. He flips his phone shut.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

On the way to the harbor, Ruth slows down as she passes the small village not far from her place. The tourist season now over, the charming town is still far from empty. Shoppers pass by on the narrow streets, carrying little mesh bags filled with items such as pita breads and cheeses. Some of the locals sit in the café chairs set around the small tables, sipping drinks or just enjoying the day. Others seek the shade from the brilliant sun, sitting underneath the cafe or shop's awnings. But no matter where they sit, in sun or shade, few are alone; many in fact, are couples.

She sees an internet café and immediately pulls right up next to it.

* * *

As soon as he enters the Grid, his officers crowd around him.

"Welcome back, Harry." Dimitri and Tariq say at the same time.

Beth, he notices, is standing off to one side, uncharacteristically quiet. She smiles at him as he draws near.

"Beth." He says, "Glad to see you made it home."

She nods. "Thank you."

"I'd like to have a word with you in a few minutes."

She nods in acquiescence.

"How's Ruth?" Tariq and Dimitri ask, again speaking at the same time.

Harry turns to them and smiles a bit. "She's doing much better. The leave will do her good—especially the weather."

"Then she is coming back?" Tariq asks.

Harry's mobile vibrates. He turns from Tariq and flips it open.

"Yes, Home Secretary. I've just walked in."

"Well," the voice on the other end says, "You can walk right out again and see me at my office. Now."

"As you wish. Home Secretary." Harry says.

The Grid goes quiet, straining to hear the conversation, at least Harry's end of it.

"I don't wish, Sir Harry. And with no further delay." The line goes dead.

_Welcome Home. Right.

* * *

_

"….And another thing," the HS adds, "just when did you think—"

"Home Secretary," Harry interjects, "I was in touch with my team the entire time."

"It appears that one member of your team took precedence over the rest of them." In the wake of the deadly silence, the HS finally gestures to the chair Harry is standing next to, his hand now gripping the back of it.

" Sit down, Sir Harry. And that is an order."

Harry complies, looking intently at his superior.

"How is she?" The HS suddenly asks.

Harry pauses before he answers. "She's doing well. The climate agrees with her."

The HS says nothing more for a moment . "I'm not made of stone, you know, although you may think so." The big man leans in a bit, his arms resting on his desk. "Be that as it may, there are to be no more repeat performances of this. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly." Harry says, his eyes still fixed on the HS.

The Home Secretary nods and leans back in his chair. "As to your junior officer, I had an illuminating meeting with her and her colleague."

"Yes. Dimitri."

"When I say illuminating, Sir Harry, I'm being facetious. You do understand that?"

Harry sighs. "I'm afraid that there isn't much more she can tell you. The Chinese and our own government, I suspect, are exploiting the issue to suit their own ends."

The other man's eyes widen. "You are supposed to be suiting our ends as well. That is what you are being paid for as a member of Her Majesty's Secret Service."

"Of course. I didn't mean to imply otherwi-"

"You are to make sure that this incident—"

"—With all due respect, Home Secretary, I hardly think a man's suicide merely an inciden—

"—Will not create more of a –"

"A what? A nuisance? A man's life has been taken by his own hand despite my officer's very best attempts to save him. It's more than unfortunate. And a tragedy that others seem to forget this and instead choose to exploit it."

The chair creaks a bit as the HS stands up. "Go home. Get some rest. You have a situation which you will deal with in the morning. Exploitation or not. And you _will_ deal with this appropriately. Is this clear?

"Certainly, Home Secretary. " Harry says, standing up as well.

By the time he reaches his place, it's almost dark. But his body feels like it's much later than that even though Greece is only a two hour difference or so from London. But since he is still on Greek time all he wants to do his take a hot shower and put his feet up. He checks his phone one more time before he does so. No messages. He begins to ring her and then hangs up. Getting undressed, he steps into the shower letting the hot water cascade over him. His eyes close and he leans into the tiled wall, wishing that he could just sleep right there. When he finally manages to drag himself from the shower, he wonders why he has not yet heard from her. Drying off, he checks his phone messages again. He smiles. There's a text message from her.

_Read your email, please. :)_

His smile deepens. He throws a robe on and goes immediately to his office down the hall.

_Harry:_

_I'm writing this from a local internet café since as you know, my service isn't set up yet. How was your flight? Did you rest or sleep? You must take better care of yourself, __kardia mou__. If not, how can I concentrate on getting better worrying about you?_

_I will not write about the weather; the reason is not because one may consider it pedestrian; clearly there is nothing ordinary about the weather here, as you know. But as I see it's been raining all day back home… (And yes, Harry, it is my home and as much as I am enjoying Crete and its delightful climate, I have not forgotten your departing words to me. And it is my fervent wish that you keep them in mind as well.)_

_I want to call you and hear your voice. But I hesitate to do so because I know exactly how difficult your days are back home. So I will leave it to you to initiate such calls whenever you have time. And on that note, I do hope that your absence hasn't made things too difficult for you. How can I thank you for doing what you did for me?_

_Yes, Crete is lovely. But it pales in comparison to you._

_Mou lipis, agapi mou._

_Kardia sou, Ruth.

* * *

_

mou lipis, agapi mou. (I miss you, my love.)

Kardia sou (your heart)


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you ALL for your interest in this story! :) ~Now on with the show~**

_ -4-_

_Ruth:_

_You must not thank me for doing what I want and need to do: Take care of you. It is wholly selfish on my part as well because I need to know that you are, as you put it, whole. As such, I need to see you happy because I need to see you smile (at me); see you blush (yes, you do that, you know.); hear you laugh (hopefully with me, not at me); and hold you in my arms when you cry (rare and fleeting, I hope). But most of all, I want to hold you in my arms (and then do what comes naturally). See? Selfish._

_And being a selfish man, I can think of little else than seeing you again. And doing what will come naturally. Here. Home. With me. In every way. (Are you blushing, Ruth? It pleases me to think that you are at both my words and intent.)_

_But I will force myself to be patient because I know being in Crete is what you want, and as you say, need to do. And anything you need, agapi mou, you shall have._

_Kardia sou,_

_Harry._

_p.s. I guess I'm not quite the dunce since I am managing to learn some Greek. (Either that, I suspect, or you are a natural- born teacher; is there anything you can't do, Ruth?)_

_And one more thing: Thank you for teaching me all the words that I really need to know._

_-H._

* * *

_ Harry:_

_I don't need to look in the mirror to know that your words have indeed brought a blush to my cheeks. (And a heat to the rest of me.) Just know this, agapi mou: it is difficult being away from you. My world has gone silent not hearing your silken voice; dulled not breathing in your scent; and bereft of being, so far away from your touch. But the most difficult of all is wanting you in every way. Yes, Harry. In every way. But it is precisely for the last reason that I must be here. And you must be there._

_My feelings for you are intense, so intense in fact, that it is here I must be nearly-1700 miles away for me to truly understand who I am. Yes. Because of the intensity of my feelings for you, I need this separation even as it is intensely painful as well. (Have you any idea how sensual a man you are, Harry? How I can think of nothing else when you are near?) Yes, my love, we need this time for me to heal and come back to you. Whole. You deserve no less. We deserve no less. And when I do return, we will do what comes naturally, as you so sweetly put it. (I think about it, too, kardia mou. Some nights I cannot sleep thinking about us being together. Really together. And when I finally do fall asleep and wake up in the morning, I linger because I want to hold on to the dream I have had of you and me; and yes, together in every way.) Are you shocked? Sometimes, agapi mou, I believe that you have a touch of the Victorian in you. I like that so very much. And I wonder, Harry: Are you blushing now? I like to think that you are as well._

_ Kardia sou, Ruth._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

When Harry wakes in the morning, he goes straight to his laptop now in his bedroom. Flipping it open, he quickly logs on and reads the email there.

_Good morning, agapi mou. _

_I have had another wonderful dream about you and me last night. When I see you, I will tell you _all _about it. _

'_Till then,_

_Kardia sou, Ruth._

He writes back as quickly as he can:

_Ruth: _

_I didn't know that you were such a tease. _

_I like it.  
_

_Kardia sou,_

_Harry._

_p.s. And I'm not blushing. (That's your purview.) But after your email last night, I did take another (cold) shower. (Is that Victorian enough for you?) And one more thing just so we're clear: I'm looking forward to learning more about you _in every way_.  
_

_-H.

* * *

_

She touches her face and can feel its heat. Smiling, she logs off of the computer at the internet café, hoping that that she can get online at her own place later this afternoon and answer his email. In the meantime, she decides to head down to the harbor, something that she had intended to do yesterday but instead, spent the time emailing him.

She drives carefully down the narrow road. The Aegean sea is on her left, bordered by boulders and smaller rocks reaching down to the sea, a narrow strip of sand in between. Seagulls fly overhead and not yet mid-morning, the sky is already a brilliant blue, the sun warm and golden. It takes her a while, but when she finally gets there, the marina is quiet. Farther out, she can see fishing boats on the water. Parking the small car, she begins to walk down the pier, the wooden slats warm beneath her feet. A lone seagull sits perched on one of the pilings watching her as she makes her way down past each individual slip. "Good Morning," she says, stopping in front of it. The gull tilts its head a bit before fixing one beady eye on her. "Ah," she says. "Perhaps you speak Greek?" "Kaliméra." She smiles a bit more and breathing in the sea air, continues on her way. Although quiet, there is some movement on the pier. Some are bringing supplies over to their boats; others are standing on their decks just looking out to the sea. All kinds of vessels are moored in their slips: smaller boats, larger ones and yachts as well. But she walks past these, scanning the marina, her hand shading her eyes against the angle of the morning sun. Then she sees it a little further down with the rest of the commercial vessels. She passes the two ferries now moored for the season. And right next to them, the_ Argos_. The gangplank is closed. She walks a bit port-side and sees no movement at all. She stands there, uncertain.

"Jo," he says, startling her.

She looks up, squinting in the sun. "Captain Stefanos?"

He moves away from the sun, and she can see that it is indeed him and wearing his standard dress: navy cap, blue denim shirt and light blue jeans. He's wearing his navy blue sneakers as well, the laces long gone.

"What a nice surprise," he says looking down at her. "How are you?" His eyes flick over her body before meeting her eyes again. "You look well. You are well?"

She nods. "Yes. I am much better. Thank you."

"You look good." He says. "What are you doing here? Do you need passage to Cyprus?"

She shakes her head and smiles. "No. Well, maybe later, actually," she adds. "But not today."

"Ah." He only says. "Then did you come all this way to just say good morning?"

She gives a self-deprecating smile. "Right. Where are my manners?" _Kaliméra_, Captain."

"Milos, please." He says. "And _Kaliméra t_o you, too." He touches the brim of his cap. "Well, then Jo. " He says and waits.

"Actually," she says, "I only wanted to thank you for …what you did."

He tilts his head at her not unlike the lone seagull on the piling just moments before.

"You know. Finding Steve. The one who..."

His face darkens a bit. "Do not thank me, Jo, for it was my pleasure to bring him to justice. When I heard…" He shakes his head.

"How did you find out?" She asks.

"The local authorities called me, of course. Asking if I knew anything about it." _The Grid_, Ruth thinks, but her face remains impassive. . "I see. Yes. Of course." She nods.

"And when I heard that it was you, Jo, well…" He pauses. "I could not allow that—not on my ship. Not with you."

"And you found him." She says, ignoring the last.

"Yes. A captain knows his crew and their –how do you say it? Hang-outs?"

"Yes, that's fine. But you need not worry. You speak English beautifully, you know."

"In my business, Jo, learning to speak others' idioms is necessary. Among other things, of course."

"Yes. I understand." She nods.

"But I can say the same as you. You speak my language perfectly. Where did you learn to speak it, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I study languages," she replies.

He nods and says nothing more about it. "So," he says a moment later, "have you had coffee or tea, yet?"

"Actually, No. Not yet."

"Come," he says, gesturing vaguely about the marina. "There's a decent place here where one can get coffee or tea and perhaps a bite to eat."

She nods. "I'd like that."

* * *

"I have a question for you, Jo, and it is of a personal nature."

They sit at a small booth, cups in front of them. "If you do not wish to answer, I will understand and of course, respect that." He picks up his coffee, his dark eyes watching her.

"Please. Ask. I think you've more than earned your question." She smiles. But she also picks up her cup of tea and sips from it, watching him over the brim.

"Your…" He starts again. "Mr. Graham. I met him."

She takes another sip before answering. "You met H...Henry Graham?"

"Yes. He came to speak with me."

"On the _Argos?"_

He nods.

"He never mentioned that. Did he wish to thank you?"

"One could say that," Stephanos says before adding, "I know he found you on the mountain. After…Well, you know."

"Yes. He did find me." She takes a small sip of tea.

"He is a good friend of yours?"

"Very much so." She says firmly.

"Is he still in Crete?"

"Actually, no." She says, setting down her cup. "He had to go back to …his work. Business, you know."

"Business. Yes." He pauses for a moment. "I'm curious. What kind of work does he do? If you don't mind me asking."

"Banking."

Stephanos takes another sip of his coffee, his eyes never leaving her face.

"Excuse me, Milos. I don't mind you asking me questions, but now I have a question for you. Why did you ask? About Henry? "

He sets his cup down as well. "I will be honest with you, Jo. Perhaps now that Henry," as you say, "has gone back to your country, I can be a friend to you, too."

Ruth takes a few moments before answering. "Friendship is fine; I welcome that, Milos. But anything more... Well, I'm sorry." She looks at him intently.

He holds her gaze. Then he nods. "Thank you for telling me. But friendship is not to be undervalued, either. Yes?"

She nods and smiles. "Certainly not. I can use all the friends I can get."

"Henry," he says, "is a lucky man."

She opens her mouth then closes it.

Milos then picks his cup up, tilting towards hers. _"Yia'sou!"_

"To your health, too," she says. "And friendship." And clinks her cup to his.


	6. Chapter 6

**Dear ALL: Thanks for reading/feedback; I hope you're enjoying the story. And to those who are wondering about the rating: two characters *may* be heading towards a "mature" moment. And if so, I do not want them -or the muses-to be constrained by a K rating. Please keep in mind as well that Kardia Mou is also categorized as both Angst and Romance. (Not a bad combo, imo; hope you agree.)**

**'nuff said. :)**

-6-

After an interminable day, most of it spent with a delegation from China, the Chinese Ambassador, the Home Secretary and the JIC, Harry all but drags himself back home. Heading upstairs, he glances at his computer on his night table in his bedroom. But he decides to shower first, get something to eat and then treat himself to an email from Ruth before falling into bed. At least he hopes there is an email from her. He refuses to believe that after the day he's had, the gods would not be so cruel as to leave him bereft with no contact from her. Less than an hour later after his shower and a light dinner, he is more than ready to shine some light upon a completely dreadful day. Glass of whiskey in hand, he logs on. He smiles. But as he continues to read his smile fades. Soon, he is frowning.

_Harry: _

_I had an interesting day today. I met with Captain Stephanos. I know you remember him, of course, especially since he told me that you had actually met him in person on the _Argos_. I wonder why you did not mention it to me. Perhaps you did not want to worry me. But I have to admit that it was a bit awkward when he told me that you had indeed met him, and I knew nothing of it. _

_Perhaps you are wondering as well why I met with him. I simply wanted to thank him in person for his efforts in finding Steve. We also shared a cup of coffee. Well, he had coffee, and I had my cup of tea. He was full of questions, it seemed. For instance, he wanted to know what kind of business you were in, and I told him banking. He seemed a bit surprised at that although he did a fairly good job of hiding it. I also wonder __why __he seemed surprised. _

_At any rate, he offered me his friendship, and I accepted it. But I did let him know that is all I'm offering. He seemed perfectly content with that. Still, I find him to be both a curious man as well as an observant one: he seemed to know that you and I …well, you know. :)_

_But I do wonder, Harry, how he seemed to know so much about me and about you. About us. Harry, is there anything you want or need to tell me? I do remember when I was in hospital, and I identified the picture of Steve, you told me that I was "not to worry." I didn't. Then. Now, however, the analyst in me is asking certain questions, but I cannot find the answers because I do not have all the facts. And knowing me as well as you do, you know that I will not rest until I do. _

_By the way, Milos (That's Stephanos' name) still believes my name is Jo Zafar, the name I first gave him when I met him. I thought about telling him that my surname is Graham, but I decided not to do so. I thought it simpler that way. But in hindsight, I hope I made the right decision. Milos knows many people on the island, and I hope he doesn't run into anyone from the hospital or locals like Melia and Petros who know me as Mrs. Graham, unlikely that may be. Nevertheless, if he should find out that we are "married," it would be more than awkward. Perhaps I can tell him that we are separated, if it comes to that. (And not so very far from the truth, is it?) _

_At any rate, I miss you with all my heart. And I hope you had a good day. Oh, and my internet is up! Now I can email you to my heart's content._

_Ruth._

He reads her email again and closes the laptop. He goes over to his bed and sits down. Then he lies down and stares up at the ceiling. His eyes close. When they open a while later, he grabs his phone and checks the time: 22.11 hours. He realizes it's too late to call her; it's past midnight there, and most likely she is fast asleep. He mentally kicks himself for drifting off and not calling her sooner.

So he does the only thing he can do. He goes back to staring up at the ceiling, until his eyes grow heavy once again. At last they close, this time for good despite his troubled sleep.

* * *

When she awakens the next morning, Ruth goes straight to her laptop now resting on the only table in her place, right next to the tiny kitchen. She logs on and sees there is no email from Harry. She checks carefully again, then reaches for her mobile, also on the table. Nothing. The blank screen stares back at her. Although she does not want to disturb him at work, she finally settles for three words: "Are you ok?" Then she hits SEND and waits with phone in hand.

It vibrates in her hand only minutes later. She quickly scans the text message:

_I'm fine. Was going to call you last night but realized too late._

_Email concerns me esp. about Stephanos. You know nothing about him. And you are all alone there. _

_Will call you later today. Already late for a meeting with hs. Will discuss this at length later._

_Be careful._

_p.s. glad you have internet_

_-h. _

Ruth goes back to her laptop and rereads her message that she sent to Harry the previous night. It looks different to her in the light of day. Sighing, she decides to write him another email without delay.


	7. Chapter 7

Please keep in mind the rating: M/ Profane language ahead

-7-

_TEXT MESSAGE: Harry: Pls. read email before calling me- Ruth :)  
_

_Harry:_

_After having read my previous email to you again, I can understand your concern: Stefanos was full of questions, but rest assured, at no time did he make me feel personally uncomfortable. I want to assure you as well he has always been a perfect gentleman. In addition, since I felt that I owed him a debt for finding my assailant so quickly, I felt compelled to thank him for his efforts. As such, I do hope that I have allayed your fears about Milos._

_I am also fairly certain that you have a good reason for not telling me why you had met him; I suspect, agapi mou, it was due to my condition at the time. But now I am better and since it does concern me, I would truly appreciate knowing all the facts. I hope you will see my request simply a reflection of my analytical mind rather than a chastisement of you in any way._

_I will wait for your call. It has been far too long since I have heard your voice. (I mean that in the nicest possible way.)_

_Kardia sou,_

_Ruth._

Having finished dinner over two hours ago and now mulling over whether to call him, she jumps when her mobile finally rings. Her hand trembles a bit when she reaches for her phone, and she exhales slowly before speaking into it.

"Hi," she says, still a bit out of breath.

"How are you?" He asks.

"Good. Now that I'm speaking to you."

"Are you ok?" The note of concern in his voice is obvious.

"I'm fine. I just ...keep forgetting the time difference."

"Ah. Yes. About that. I'm sorry. I just got home." He pauses a bit. "Actually, I wanted to be able to talk to you, really talk with no interruption. So I thought it best if I waited until I got home."

"I understand. Of course." She takes another breath. "Did you read my email?"

"I did. Thank you. It was unnecessary, though."

"I'm sorry, if I wrote anything last night that—"

"—Ruth. You don't need to apologise for anything." He says firmly. "You mustn't think otherwise."

"But I sounded …demanding. And then my meeting with Mil—"

"You are not demanding." He says, then quickly adds, "But yes, your meeting with Stefanos does trouble me."

"But why? He's a good man, Harry. I can tell."

She hears him sigh." "You know nothing about him."

"And you sound as if you do. Is there anything you know you're not telling me?" Before he can answer she asks, "have you checked him out and found something?'

He sounds weary all of sudden. "He checks out o.k."

"Then?"

"He's a stranger. You don't really know him. And I don't like the idea of you being with him all alone on the island."

"Harry," she says, "I'm not alone on the island. There are other people here, you know."

"You know what I mean." He says, sounding wearier by the minute.

"If there's no reason why I should not be friends with him, then I wonder why it bothers you so."

He pauses then says, "You're the analyst, Ruth. Figure it out."

She takes a breath. "If you're wondering that my friendship is …"

"Not on your part. But," he adds, "it's obvious that he likes you. Which is understandable."

"I thought you trusted me."

His response is swift. "I do. Implicitly. I don't, however, trust him."

"I see." She says and does.

"Do you, Ruth. Do you?"

"Yes." She says. "But why didn't you tell me that you saw him on the _Argos_? Did you two have words?"

"I assure you, it was all perfectly gentlemanly."

"Then?"

"You were in hospital." He reminds her gently. "I really didn't see the point in worrying you."

"I understand." She says, nodding. "But there's no reason not to tell me now." She pauses. "I know I sound demanding again. But something is missing."

He sighs. "You're relentless, you know."

"Harry?"

"Yes. I'm still here." Then he says, "I really wish you had told me you intended to see him. I would have told you that I did. Or actually," he amends, "that you already had."

"Sorry?" She says, pressing the phone to her ear even more.

"When I was on the _Argos_, I told him, "Jo says thanks."'

"And?"

He sighs again, even louder than before. "You're really not going to let this rest, are you?"

"I can't. I just can't. And your being evasive only piques my interest more."

"Ruth. " He says. "You're like a blood hound. Do you know that?"

"Harry." She says and hopes he can sense her smile.

"I say that with the utmost...affection."

"I know you do." She says, still smiling. " But still, I'm not quite sure I like you thinking of me as a ... dog."

"Man's best friend," he says mildly.

She can see his expression as if she were right there next to him. And she smiles, her dimples showing before going on. "You're changing the subject. But like the blood hound you insist I am, it's not working."

"Relentless. That's what you are."

She hears the affection in his voice. She waits and in moments is rewarded.

"Stefanos brought this Steve character over on the _Argos,_ as you know. I wanted to see him before he was turned over to the local authorities. And Stefanos simply gave me the the opportunity to see the miscreant before handing him over, that's all.

"To do what?"

"Tell him what I thought of him."

"What did you say?"

"I'm afraid, Ruth, that I used some rather coarse language."

She pauses. "Is that all?"

"I'm afraid as well," he says dryly, "that I became rather cross with him."

"How cross?"

"Exceedingly so."

"Harry. What did you do?"

"He was fine, at least when I left him."

"God."

"Ruth," he says, all traces of amusement gone from his voice. "Did you really expect me to let him get away with a slap on the wrist for doing what he did to you?"

"But that's not your job. You're not-"

"It is and I am. And I'd do it again." He says in earnest. "Frankly, the little shit got off easy. But I hope he thinks twice before doing it to someone else."

"God." She says again.

"God has very little to do with it." He says, his voice dropping a bit.

"And this is why you didn't tell me."

"Yes."

"And this also why Milos doesn't believe you to be a banker."

"He really shouldn't generalize."

" This isn't funny."

"You're right," he says, his tone perfectly serious again. "What happened to you isn't funny at all. And if I ever hear or see the little bastard again-"

"Promise me that you will keep your distance from him," she pleads. "Promise me."

She waits for his response. When she realizes none is forthcoming, she says only, "Harry?"

"Still here, Ruth."

"Harry, " she says again, this time very softly. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Ah." He says. "Now, that's more like it. His voice goes deeper, silkier. "How about we discuss this at length in our emails, Ruth? "

A little thrill goes through her. But she only says, "Sorry?"

"Don't be coy." And his voice goes even deeper and silkier than before. "Tell me, Ruth. Are you blushing?"

"Harry." She says again and giggles.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you ALL for reading/feedback. But...oh, dear:** **The muses are at it again.. **

-8-

With one notable exception of Ruth's nightly emails, Harry's days are much the same before Ruth's decision to stay in Greece. Each night he trudges home, takes his shower and get something to eat. Then with glass in hand, he heads back upstairs to log on and read his email from her. Occasionally, he'll call her if he's home early enough. But whether he does or not, there is always an email waiting for him every evening. He finds that it is the proverbial carrot which gets him through some tough days as Section Chief of Mi-5. Expecting this evening to be no different than other evenings, Harry once again heads upstairs after dinner with glass in hand. He logs on. Frowning, he takes another look. There is no email from her. He checks his mobile. Perhaps she called or left a message of some sort whilst he was in the shower, he thinks. But there is neither voice mail nor text message from her.

He glances at the small clock on his night table: 21:00 Picking up his mobile, he rings her. He lets it ring until it goes to voice mail. "Ruth." He says. "Perhaps you're sleeping. I hope so. I...Actually. I didn't see an email. That's all. It's fine if you didn't. But.. I...wanted to know that everything is …ok." He hangs up. A few minutes later, he calls again. "Ruth. When you get this, please call me back. I don't care how late it is. Or text message me," he adds. "Email me, too. No. Text me first." He takes a breath. "I don't care which. I'll check both. "He says unnecessarily. "Just let me know that everything's fine."

Unconsciously, he places his hand on his chest. Then he reaches for his glass, still untouched, on the night table. He downs it all at once. But instead of soothing him, it burns all the way down. He sits staring at the now empty glass. And is reminded of another time he did the same, staring at another glass not so very long ago when she had disappeared from St. Charles. And him.

He checks his email once again, then his mobile. He rings her one more time. When she doesn't answer, he goes downstairs and pours himself another whiskey. The familiar clench in his stomach is back. It's now almost 22:00 which means it's nearly midnight in Crete. Perhaps she went out, he tells himself. Or she was tired and fell asleep before emailing. But he doesn't believe it. Not for one minute. He goes into his medicine cabinet and swallows some antacids. Going back upstairs, he checks his email again.

By 1 am., Harry picks up the phone and calls the local authorities; he uses his real name and position.

By 2:20, am., he gets his answer. No Ruth. And her car is missing.

By 3 am., he is back at the Grid. He checks the local hospitals, live feeds, news, and any other contacts that he has. Still nothing. Unlocking his desk, he retrieves his passport, staring at the picture which looks nothing like him. Normally, he finds it amusing. Today the irony is lost on him.

At 4 am., he again checks the hospitals, live feeds, news and other any contacts that he has.

He also calls Malcolm, Tariq's predecessor and all- things-extraordinaire, as well. He's also Harry's friend.

"I'll be in as soon as I can." Malcolm says almost immediately.

"No," Harry says. "Stay put. Start checking everywhere. Use whatever contacts you have. I'll give you clearance if necessary. I've already checked all the obvious places, of course, but I need you to do the less obvious. I'm also calling Tariq to come in here as soon as I hang up with you."

"Of course," Malcolm says not really needing any instructions, but listening anyway. When Harry pauses, Malcolm says, "She might just be out for the evening, you know."

"I cannot take the chance. Not with her... history. Not with...her." He realizes he's bending his passport, still in his hands. Sliding open his desk, he places it back inside.

By 5 am, he's on the phone with Tariq: "I need you on the Grid." He says with no preamble. Then he calls the rest of the team. All three walk in soon after, Dimitri the first to arrive, Beth and Tariq following minutes later. The young man's dark hair is standing up in the back and a blazer has been thrown over his black t shirt emblazoned with a lightning bolt across his chest. He looks up at Harry." She's missing. Again?"

Harry jerks his head towards his techno whiz. "Unless spoken to you, that is the last word you will utter here. Am I making myself clear?"

The young man swallows noisily, his Adam's apple clearly visible. "I'm sorry, I... " He begins to say.

Harry turns his back on him.

Dimitri looks at Tariq and shakes his head sympathetically. Beth watches Harry go into his office. She follows him.

"Harry." She begins, standing in the threshold.

"Unless you have information about Ruth," he says, not looking up at her, "this is not a good time to discuss anything else. You haven't heard anything, have you?" He asks, finally looking up at her.

She shakes her head. "No. But it does concern Ruth."

"What do you mean?" He asks, staring at her.

"We're all worried about her, Harry. We are," she stresses. "But taking it out on Tariq is not the way. And I that know Ruth would not approve, either."

"How do you know?" he asks sharply. Then he takes a good look at his officer. Dark crescents of exhaustion show under her eyes and her fair skin is bleached of colour. Her blonde hair pulled off her face does nothing to soften her normally pretty features, either. With a jolt, Harry realizes she looks far older than he last remembers. He waits for her to continue.

"Because Ruth is compassionate, has integrity and would defend Tariq." She says. "And, she adds almost defiantly, "I know she'd cheer me on for talking to you like this, too." She looks intently at him.

His eyes bore into hers. Then they soften just a bit. "You're right." He turns from her and steps back into the outer office.

"Tariq," he says. The young man look up, eyes wide, hands suspended above his keyboard.

"I owe you an apology." Harry says. He turns to the others. "All of you know my feelings for Ruth. But that's no excuse for my unprofessional behavior. It's inexcusable," he adds.

"It's ok, Harry. We underst-" Dimitri begins to say.

Harry holds his hand up. "And one more thing. Ruth wouldn't approve of my behaviour as well. As duly pointed out by your colleague." He looks towards Beth."Thank you for reminding me of that."

Harry turns back to Tariq. "Carry on. Please."

The young man nods. "Of course, Harry." His hands begin to work their magic over his keyboard again.

Harry stands looking at his team for a moment before heading back into his office. Once there, he rings Malcolm again.

"Nothing, Harry." Malcolm tells him. He pauses then says softly, "There was..someone fitting her description, actually."

Harry waits, the whiskey burning a hole in his stomach despite the antacids he swallowed at home.

"But she has already been identified by her husband," Malcolm adds quickly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. "Malcolm says. "Thank God. I mean, that's it's not Ruth. It's not." He says again.

"Thank you." Harry clears his throat before going on. "Keep doing what you're doing. Please. " A moment later, he ends the call.

As soon as he hangs up, Tariq calls out. "Harry!" He turns his head and through the glass cubicle, he sees his team clustered around Tariq's monitor. In seconds, Harry is at Tariq's workstation.

"Here." Tariq says, pointing at the screen "Here."

All eyes stare at the monitor.


	9. Chapter 9

**h/r Oh, dear. Oh, DEAR.**

Chapter 9

They all lean in towards the screen, Harry mere inches from it. "That's her car," he says seconds later, more to himself than to anyone else. All of them stare at the Renault Clio.

Tariq nods. "The marina in Crete."

"Live?" Harry asks.

Tariq shakes his head. "No." He peers at the screen. "That's about 8 hours ago. But this one is," he says, pulling up another image now juxtaposed with the first. "So, the car's -"

"Still there." Harry interjects. "At least since midnight."

The young man nods. "Yes. But I'm trying to find an even earlier image before her car was there to establish a time line."

"I understand." Harry says, straightening up. "Keep trying."

"Wait." the techie says, his eyes riveted on the screen as his hands dance on his keyboard. "I'm plotting a trajectory of all her last known movements the ..." He glances over at Harry for an instant. "The last time..we looked... I mean...when she..."

"I would expect you to do no less." Harry says.

The young man nods at his superiour. "Here." He says seconds later, his hands still dancing over the keyboard. In moments a grainy image comes into play. Two figures are standing fairly close together, one taller and leaner than the other.

"Where are we?" Harry asks, squinting at the image.

"Near Cyprus." Tariq says, not looking up, his hands never still.

"What time is this?"

"Not long ago. The satellite shows-"

"It's Ruth." Harry says.

"You sure?" Tariq asks. "Wait. Let me punch up the resolution-"

"It's her." Harry says with certainty. "And Stefanos." He adds and exhales audibly.

"The captain from the _Argos_?" Dimitri asks, speaking for the first time. "What's he doing—?"

The image comes into focus. "It's definitely Ruth and Stefanos," Harry says again. Then he glances at Tariq. "Is it live?"

He shakes his head. "5 minutes ago. But she's ok. Harry." Tariq adds.

Harry stares at the image. Their faces aren't quite clear, but there is nothing in their body language to suggest anything other than two people talking to one another. Relaxed. Even.

"Here," Tariq says, bringing the image into even sharper relief. There is absolutely no doubt now for anyone in the room that it is Ruth. She's holding some type of cup in one hand. Another image pops up on the screen. "The ship." Tariq says. And this is live. "

"Tug." Dmitri says, automatically correcting the younger man.

"Right. Tug." The letters come into focus as well. "The_ Argos_." Tariq reads unnecessarily.

"Anything else?" Harry asks his voice expressionless.

" Well. Now that we actually know where she is-"

Harry turns to his team, his face matching his voice. "It appears that this is a false alarm. I'm sorry, but thankful to all of you. Getting you here so early." He looks specifically at his youngest member of the team. "Tariq. Excellent work. Thank you."

"Don't you want me to...?" Tariq begins to say.

"But why isn't she answering her mobile?" Dimitri cuts in.

Beth says nothing, but her troubled eyes remain on Harry.

He shrugs. "Perhaps she forgot it. She's done that before."

"I'll make some phone calls. I can-"

"I'll take care of it, Tariq." Harry says firmly. "But thank you." He looks at his team. "Again. You can go back home. All of you. Get some sleep."

"But," the young man says, "Don't you want to know where—"

"Again." Harry says, his words measured and now perfectly modulated. "I will take it from here. Thank you all. Absolutely stellar work. As usual." With that, he turns towards his office, leaving his nonplussed team standing there. Moments after, the heavy door to his office slides shut.

* * *

"Good morning," Stefanos says to Ruth, holding a cup of coffee out to her. He's standing at the helm next to his first mate who's actually navigating the tug.

"Thank you," she says stepping topside.

"Where are we?" She asks, walking over to the Captain and accepting the cup. She yawns. "Sorry. I guess I really need this," she says, taking a sip and looking out at the Mediterranean sea before her.

Stefanos smiles then points straight ahead in the water at a nebulous shape out in the distance. "Look."

Ruth squints a bit. "Is that..?"

Stefanos nods. "Yes. And within the hour," He leans over a bit and pats the gunwale of his tug.

She nods. "You were right. 24 hours."

"More or less," He says, giving the _Argos_ a final pat. "She knows what she's doing." He straightens up and smiles at Ruth. "And how did you sleep?" He asks.

"A lot better than last time," she says, adding, "I simply cannot thank you enough. You really are much too kind, Milos."

He looks down at her. "It is my pleasure. And I hope not too long a journey for you."

"Of course not. I thoroughly enjoyed the excursion. Nice day, too." She's wearing a light jacket, but the bright sun is already warming her.

He nods. "Yes. What is it they say?"

She squints up at him.

"About the journey? And destination?"

"Oh. Right," she says. '"Life is a journey and not a destination."'

He nods. "I suppose," he says, looking out at the sea, "it's why I do what I do."

"A happy man." She says, taking another sip of coffee, her eyes also on the water.

"Most days," he says. "And some," he says, now gazing intently back at her while she stares out at the water, "more so than others."

* * *

"Malcolm," says Harry, mobile in hand, "We've found her. And apparently she's fine."

"That's wonderful. news, Harry. Just wonderful." Malcolm says. Where -"

"I need you to trace Milos Stefanos' phone records. If you remember, he runs a tug calls the _Argos_. The same one Ruth was on last time. Get me his number. Please. And the records. And you are to give it to me and no one else."

"OF course," Malcolm replies. "I'll be the soul of discretion."

"I'm counting on it," says Harry.

* * *

"So. You will return here in 4 hours?"

She nods. "Yes. I will."

"You are sure that it is enough time?"

"Oh, yes." She says. "More than enough."

"Then you must call me if you need more time."

"I will," she says, patting her jacket. Her eyes go wide.

"Is there something wrong?"

"My phone."

"Maybe you left it on the _Argos?_"

Both head back to the tug. But after 15 minutes of searching, she realizes that she does not have her phone. Worse, she also realizes that if Harry had called her, she would not have known if he had. She makes a face. "I cannot believe that I don't have it nor missed it actually," she says out loud more to herself than Stefanos. "I wonder where-"

"Here, " Stefanos says, "Take it." He holds his phone out to her.

"Well, she says, eyeing the mobile, "if I can just make one phone call? Then I''ll-"

"Nonsense." He says. "You must keep it for the afternoon. You will be going up the mountain into Polis and you need to have a phone. "Please," he says, still holding the phone out to her. "I don't need it here at the marina. Just call the harbor-master if you need me. Everyone knows where I'll be." He jerks his head towards his tug.

"Are you quite sure?"

"Of course," he says. "And let me take that cup you're holding, too."

"Oh," she says. He takes her cup and exchanges it for the mobile. " You're much too kind," she says to him.

"Well, I hope you have a good day. Remember. If you need anything, please call me."

"I'm sure that that I'll l be fine. Thank you. And it seems that is all I do is thank you." She adds, smiling warmly up at him.

"Friends help one another, Jo. " He says then touches the brim of his hat

She smiles up at him. Then turning, she heads towards the small village near the marina.

"Please be careful." He calls after her.

She turns back. "Don't worry. I know the area well. Thank you again, "she says and gives him a little wave. Confidently, she begins to walk towards the small fishing village where she knows she can pick up a taxi. Then she spies a bench not far away from her. Heading towards it, she flips open the mobile and begins to call Harry. But before she can, the phone rings in her hand. Glancing at the number, she immediately picks up. "Harry?" she says, incredulously. "How did you know I didn't have my phone?"

"Are you alright, Ruth?" He asks, his voice curt.

"Yes., Of course, I forgot my phone, though, I do hope you haven't –"

"Where are you?" He asks unnecessarily.

" On Cyprus. Of course. I only just got here. " She says, puzzled. She waits for his response. "Harry? Are you there?" He is silent on the other end except for his breathing."What's wrong?"

"You didn't tell me." He finally says.

"Sorry?" She waits a moment then goes on when he doesn't reply. "Of course I did. Yesterday morning. Oh. Please don't tell me that you didn't check your email."

"There was was no email, Ruth. Nor was the any indication that you were actually alive." He says coldly. " Do you have any idea what I, and in fact, your colleagues, have been through looking for you? Or," he adds, his voice becoming more like a stranger's by the moment. "Do you even care?"

"Oh, Harry. I don't understand. At all. I emailed you yesterday. In in the morning when I decided to -"

" I'm glad that you're alive and well, Ruth. " He says just before he hangs up.


	10. Chapter 10

_O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; __It is the green-ey'd monster..._

-10-

She stares down at the phone in her hand with incredulity. Then she punches his number back in. But there is no answer. When it goes to voicemail, she says. "Harry. You need to call me back on this number. And I absolutely did email you about coming here to Cyprus. I have some business here and... For God's sake, Harry. Just call me back. Please." She rings off. She stands there, now uncertain. She had come to Cyprus for a specific reason, and she had intended to tell Harry about it, _but now_…She begins to walk faster and faster towards town. Her foot slips a bit on a stone, and she nearly wrenches her ankle. "Great. Just great." She says out loud. Taking a bit more care, she continues walking towards the village.

Stopping at the edge of town, she looks down at the mobile still clutched in her hand. "Harry, " she only says, shaking her head. She sighs and continues walking until she sees the taxis lined up not far ahead. Approaching only minutes later, she asks the driver in Greek, "How much to go up the mountain?" He gives her a price, and she nods. Getting in, she leans over and says, "Saint Athanasios Cemetery." Leaning back into her seat, she looks at the silent phone in her hand before slipping it into her pocket.

* * *

He stares down at his mobile. _Call her. Call her. Call. Her. Back. _Ignoring the voice in his head, he puts his phone down and goes over to his corner cabinet in his office, pouring himself a whiskey. Bringing it over, he sets the glass down on his desk and listens to her voicemail again. He downs the drink all at once. He welcomes the pain when it hits him with a vengeance.

* * *

The climb up the mountain does not take long. Ruth stares at the rolling hills and lush countryside, biting her lip. The last time she was here she was being followed by two men; Nico and George in her car, she driving like a lunatic down the mountain. How she was able to elude the car and actually make to the airport before her pursuers remains a mystery to her. Sometimes she believes that they allowed her to do so. They knew where she would end up. And in fact, did find her easily enough once she was back in London. _And then…." _She shakes her head at the memory, wishing she could wipe out the what happened after with a simple shake of her head as well. But she knows that is impossible and in order to look forward, she must face her past. For her. For Harry. For them. She shakes her head again. _Oh,_ _Harry. _

She tries to banish all thoughts of him and their brief phone conversation from her mind. When the taxi soon passes the road near the house, she no longer has to try. Her thoughts are consumed with her time in Greece with George, mostly idyllic, filled with sunshine, laughter and love. And Nico. Always Nico. The car moves closer until it draws near the house, a house no longer hers. A little girl and boy are standing on the road, an adult close by. She wonders if they are the new owners. She turns her head away.

Not long after, she sees the road leading towards the cemetery. "Please wait for me," she tells the driver. He obliges, shutting the motor off as she makes her way towards the entrance. She walks among the headstones, large very white Greek Orthodox crosses greeting her. From where she stands, their arms jut up from the earth beseeching the sky-or beyond-for benediction. Or perhaps, mercy. She continues walking until she comes to a large grassy square with the name Papadakis. There are many crosses here, but she scans through them, looking for the one she came to see. She stops in front of one, even whiter than the others, her heart pounding.

**George Nicodemus Papadakis **

**1965-2008**

**Beloved son of Anastasia and Nicodemus**

**Beloved father of Nicodemus; Beloved brother of Athena.**

**And under their names:**

_My soul shall live, and it shall praise thee_

_and thy judgments shall help me. _

She stares at the inscription. There is nothing on it to show her time with him or his son, Nico. She steps closer. "George, she whispers. "George. _Mea Culpa." _Her body sways and slowly she sinks down onto the grass.

Later, much later, she is once again in the taxi heading towards the marina. She checks the time; it's earlier than she had thought she would be. She gets out a little before town and continues to walk towards the town, looking for a place to just sit down. When she sees a small table and chair near a café, she does so. The proprietor soon comes out. "Just a cup of tea and a glass of water, please." She says to him in perfect Greek. As she waits, she looks at the mobile again. She checks to see if they are any messages. No messages. She has no idea why he didn't get her email. She does remember, however, that in her rush to board the _Argos_, she hit _compose_ _mail_ and typed in Harry's address instead of simply hitting _reply _like she usually does. Perhaps in her haste, she typed in the wrong url. She wonders if it could be as simple as that. But she's too exhausted to think any further. That and not knowing what happened to her own mobile is all too much for her. It is, she thinks, as if the gods were conspiring against her. Punishing her.

* * *

Harry has now been up more than 24 hours. The frantic evening which never ended seems to mock him now with its relative quiet. Instead of being thankful, however, he's not sure that this is a good thing. When not on the phone or speaking to one of his team, his stomach feels if it's being blasted with a blow torch, at times keeping perfect time with the pain in his heart. He's not sure either if the last is pathological or not. But he doesn't much care one way or the other. He moves over to the small couch in his office and lies down on it. When he finally closes his eyes, he falls into an exhausted sleep in spite of the the pain.

Awakening a while later, he feels a bit better until he remembers. Getting up, he goes over to his mobile on his desk and listens to her voice again. He reaches for his computer and and logs on.

_Ruth:_

_I'm sorry for hanging up on you. But do you have any idea what you –_

He hits DELETE.

_Ruth:_

_I was so worried.._

He deletes that too.

Ruth:

_What happened?_

-h.

He deletes the last as well. He reckons she won't get it for another 24 hours, anyway. Unless of course, she uses an internet café. Or a smart phone. He doesn't care which. He just wants to talk to her; he'll settle for a text message. _Anything_. He looks down at his own phone. He's loathe to send her a text message on Stefanos' phone. But while he stands there trying to decide what to do, his hands act. Miraculously, she answers almost immediately. The pain in his chest and stomach vanish when she says his name. _Another miracle_, he thinks.

"Harry."

"Yes, I'm here." He says. He clears his throat and says again. "I'm here."

"I did email you," she says. "I did. When I get home, I'll see if I can—"

"Ruth. I'm sorry."

"My email..." She stops.

"I'm sorry. A thousand times over. " He adds, "I've been an absolute arse."

She says, sounding as as exhausted as he does, "I really don't know what happened."

"I thought. You. When. I . "He finally manages a coherent sentence. "My behaviour was inexcusable. Execrable, really. But I thought I'd never see you again."

She hesitates only a few moments, but for him it is interminable. "Is that all?"

"All? What else could there be?"

This time the silence is longer and much more eloquent. "All right. " He says, "I admit when I saw that you were safe and who you were with... Yes. It bothered me."

"Harry." But her voice holds no real rancor and he rejoices in that small victory. So he takes a chance. " I ...why did you go back to Cyprus?"

"You mean with Milos, don't you?"

"Yes." He says.

She sighs. "Therapy has been...difficult. I wanted to write and tell you about it when the time was right."

"But I thought everything has been going so well."

"It has. But ...I needed to go back to Cyrus to say goodbye. To my time there. To George." she adds. Then pauses before going on. "It's one of the reasons why I'm here and not home."

_With me_, he thinks. But he only says, "But it all seemed so sudden."

"Not sudden at all." She say wearily.

"You never..."

"You didn't give me a chance to explain. Harry." She tacks on his name like the chastisement it is meant to be.

"No. I didn't. I'm sorry for that as well."

"And I know as well, you are wondering why with Milos and not simply a plane to Athens? And a ferry over?"

"Yes," he admits.

"He and I, " she says, "are simply friends. I am allowed to have friends. Right?"

"Of course," he says, hoping he sounds more convincing that he actually feels.

She takes a breath. "After my session with my therapist the day before -two days now actually," she amends, "I went down to the harbor the next morning to speak with Milos. He was getting ready for a run to Cyprus. I hadn't planned on going quite so soon, but I decided to seize the moment, as they say. You know. _ Carpe diem._ And since he was leaving within the hour, I simply ran back to my place, took my phone. Grabbed a few things. And," she goes on breathlessly, "before I left, I wrote an email to you. But you never got it. And from there, everything went wrong. And for that, I'm truly sorry. For worrying you so. But, we still need to have a serious talk when I get back."

"About?"

"About us. The issue of trust. But now," she says, before he can think of anything to say to that. " I'm exhausted and running late. "

"Where are you?" He asks, welcoming a change of topic as the voice in his head competes with his spoken words. _Trust. Us. Serious Talk_.

"Still on Cyprus. I'm heading back to the tug right now, in fact. When you called. Finally." She adds, another chastisement.

"Ruth. I..."

"We will speak later when I return. But give me time. It will be at least another 24 hours or so."

"Of course."

"Bye." She says.

"Take care," He adds, but she is already gone. He holds onto the mobile reluctant to let it go from his hand. His gaze falls on the empty glass. Picking it up, he turns it in his hand, around and around. All at once, he hurls it against the wall. It shatters into pieces, perfectly matching the shards of glass piercing his aching heart.


	11. Chapter 11

_There is no past that we can bring back by longing for it. There is only an eternally new now that builds and creates itself out of the best as the past withdraws_.

-Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

-11-

In 24 hours or less, Harry Pearce can accomplish a lot. Stop bombs. Terrorists. Protect his country. Save the world. Even be knighted by her Majesty the Queen for all of his efforts. But now he sits there with pen in hand poised over a piece of paper, vainly trying to find the right words. Any words, in fact. And at this seemingly simple task, he fails. Spectacularly.

He takes for him, a conservative sip of scotch. His stomach is thankful for this; it has finally settled down, and he doesn't know if it's due to his drinking less this past 24 hours or the fact that Ruth is alive and well. He suspects the latter. But he is not sure that their relationship is alive and well. This is not exactly his domain; his failed marriage a testament to that. But it's Ruth, and he doesn't want this to go the way of all his other relationships, if he can even call them that.

So he sits. Looking for the words. He crumples the paper and goes over to the computer.

_Ruth:_

_I wanted to write you a letter. Mostly because I think you would have liked to receive one, hopefully, from me. But I guess I'm not quite the Victorian you see me as or would like me to be because I fail at the simple art of letter writing. As such, please feel free to add that to my list of shortcomings—a list, I know, that is long and unfortunately growing exponentially by the day. _

_For that I am sorry. I'm sorry for each and and every one of these flaws. But most of all, I'm sorry for how I behaved the other day. _

He pauses. He doesn't want to sound as if he is making excuses, but he needs her to understand, perhaps as much as he needs to understand as well. He goes on.

_I cannot imagine my life without you in it. When you were "missing," everything stopped. Nothing mattered except finding you alive and well; I had to know that you were all right. I suppose I panicked as well. Panicked. You probably don't think the word a part of my vocabulary, do you? Yet it is when it concerns you. Especially where it concerns you. When you were gone, really gone those years ago, as painful as it was, I knew you were ok. Alive. And hopefully, well. It got me through those first awful days just knowing that. Seeing your empty desk—then strangers sitting where you should have been sitting, doing your job, and not half as well, I might add. But you were alive. And I drew strength from that. _

_Ruth, I can handle anything except losing my loved ones. Yet I have done a miserable job of communicating that simple fact to those I love. This includes of course, my daughter and my son. And now, I suspect, you. You do know that I love you, don't you? I thought you did. That's the trouble: I think that my feelings are plain, easy to read, and as such, no need to actually verbalise. But according to my daughter and my son, they are not as an obvious as I thought them to be. Not obvious at all. And so there is no mistake, Ruth, I love you. I love you. I love you. And if you allow me to, I will actually say it to you in person, over and over, so there will be no doubt as to the depth of my feeling for you.__ And you shall always be my love whether or not it's reciprocated by you. _

_Yes. I am a jealous man. But this is yet another limitation of mine, not yours. I will have to deal with my pettiness; you should not have to do so as well, my love. _

_And speaking of loved ones, I called Catherine the other day and asked for Graham's number. I reckon if you can work so hard at becoming "whole," then I must do no less and begin to repair, if possible, my failed relationship with him. Perhaps I will tell him that I love him, too. I don't remember ever telling him that, even when he was a young boy. You see, Ruth? Something as simple as telling your child that you love them, I failed at. But I intend to remedy that. You know why? Because you make me a better person, Ruth. You make me want to be a better person. _

_There are times, Ruth, that I feel my life to be a failure. I may be professionally successful (some might say), but where it really matters, I'm an abject failure. I failed Jane. I failed Catherine. And I failed Graham. And I know that I failed you too last night (or was it day?). The point is, I fell short, far short of what you deserve. But I shall endeavor to do better if you give me the chance. _

_Ruth: you inspire me to do better. Don't give up on me. I know that I am a work in progress and a not very good one at that, either. But I intend to do better. You make me want to be better because I love you. With every fibre of my limited being. I love you. _

_Harry._


	12. Chapter 12

**Dear Reader: Thank you once again for your interest in this story and of course, for your wonderful feedback. It makes it all worthwhile!**

_To err is human; to forgive, divine._

_- Alexander Pope _

-12-

Ruth wipes away the tears from her eyes. But one splashes down onto her keyboard. She stares down at it, her vision blurred. Raising her hand to wipe it off, she decides instead to leave it there.

_Harry:_

_If some of my words look scrambled or wrong, know it is due only to the tears your heartfelt words have brought to me. Of course I know that you love me. You do realize that I love you, too?_

_Never doubt that, Harry. I may be angry with you or disappointed or frustrated. Or any number of things. At any number of times. (Not too often, I hope!) But love should-must-triumph over misunderstanding. Sadly, it often does not because of such misunderstandings and words left unsaid. So even though I do not doubt your love for me, I am still glad that you said the words, "I love you." And I love you, Harry. But, my love, you frustrate me. And it is precisely because I love you that I was frustrated and yes, disappointed in you. Yet I understood your behaviour even as it upset me._

_Harry, jealousy does not become you. Not at all. Nor am I one who finds it remotely attractive in a man. So yes, you do need to work on that, my love. Know as well that your jealousy sends a message to me: not so much that that you don't trust me; rather, it sends the message that your jealousy stems from an insecure heart. And my love, perhaps that is what truly bothers me. Do you not know how much I love you? Do you doubt my love for you? Do you think you not worthy of it? So I am glad that you wrote the words. Telling me that you love me. Equally important, perhaps in saying it to me, you will begin to truly understand what it is to love. To be loved. And yes, I love you. And I will not betray that love nor trust—two aspects that must exist for a relationship to be sound._

_And speaking of relationships, I am so very glad that you are reaching out towards your children, especially Graham. He needs to know how very much you love him. Not just for him, Harry, either. This is as important for you, his father: A wonderful man who along with his frailties, is the most decent man I know. I fervently hope that you and your son can find a way back to each other. Just knowing that you will try to do so makes me so very proud of you and love you, if possible, even more than I already do. And another thing, Harry: We, all of us, are works in progress, not just you. You make me want to be a better woman, too. Clearly, we try to improve ourselves for ourselves. But it's always nice to be inspired by others especially by those we love. Therefore, do try to keep in mind that if not for your love for me, I would have been irrevocably lost. How can I ever thank you for not giving up on me? So if you are to keep a list in your head of all your frailties, please be sure to include your wonderful qualities to it as well. But if you fail to do so, when I see you I will be sure to remind you of each and every reason why I love you so much._

_And speaking of that, I hope to see you soon. Yes. I sense my time here is coming to an end. And it is not just because I need to be with you as you put it, in every way (as thrilling as that may be): I feel better about who I am. And who we can be. But there is still one more thing I must do before I can come home: see Nico._

_After I do, I intend to pack my bags and be with you. Will you be there waiting for me, my love?_

_One final note: my email to you was indeed returned to me, marked "undeliverable." I know you trust me, so I won't demean that trust and forward it to you for evidence. But it does appear in my haste to leave the other day, I did type in your address incorrectly; hence, the undeliverable response I received after, of course, I had logged off. Again, my love, so sorry for worrying you. But if I am to be totally honest (and that is what this is about, isn't it?), there is a part of me glad you worry about me. (Of course, I don't wish to see you suffer. Still, knowing someone cares about me and will use every resource they have to find me because they love me, fills me with gratitude and love—especially when that person is you.)_

_Nevertheless, I will endeavor in the future to make sure that all communication to you is clear, electronic included. You see? You are not the only one who has trouble communicating! And I suspect all of us from time to time falter in that department. Be that as it may, there is one thing that remains constant: my love for you._

_Call me when you can._

_Love,_

_Ruth_

_p.s. Oh! My mobile was also found under the seat of my car. It appears it slipped out of my pocket unbeknownst by me. And when I finally retrieved all of your messages, it nearly broke my heart. Thank you for loving me so much._


	13. Chapter 13

_What was silent in the father speaks in the son, and often I found in the son the unveiled secret of the father. ~Friedrich Nietzsche_

_-13-_

_Ruth:_

_I spoke with Graham today. Rather, I tried to speak with him and well, he said little. Very little. But he did not hang up on me either, so I hope it's a beginning. He's a confused young man. Most of it my fault, I know._

_I know that trying to repair our relationship will be an ongoing process and a difficult one at best. But I will keep trying. My son deserves no less. And I did one thing today that shocked him, I know: I told him that I love him. It wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be. He said nothing when I did. But when we rang off, he did say, "Bye, Dad." Dad. I don't think he has called me that for..actually, I cannot remember the last time he's called me Dad. Maybe as a little boy when he was my shadow. My Shadow. _

Harry stops and swallows with some difficulty. Reaching for his glass of scotch, he takes a small sip. But his eyes rest on the framed picture on his night table of Catherine and Graham as children. He closes his eyes for a few seconds, envisioning them when they were that small. He can almost hear them laughing as they had been that day when the picture was taken all those years ago. He opens his eyes and the room is once more silent. He stares at the picture for a few more moments then tears his gaze from it.

_And I think I've worried poor Catherine as well. Do you know that she rang me up after I spoke with Graham, and she wanted to know if something was wrong with me? Poor lass. Then she practically accused me of lying when I told her I was fine. It would be funny if it were not so pathetic. My children think I must be dying simply because I'm finally telling them what I feel. That I love them. Something that they should already know had I been a better father. What a mess I've made of it all. But I'll just have to keep working on that. At least I'm talking, really talking to my children, and I know I have you to thank for encouraging me._

_And it seems that I will soon be able to thank you in person. In person. What can I say about that except hurry home? _

_But I know I must be patient and not pressure you. Still, these weeks without you have been interminable. Forgive me if I sound like the spoiled child I know I am: I simply want you by my side. Next to me. With me. And yes, in all ways. But I know you are doing what you need to do, and despite my petulance, I really am proud of you and support you in your efforts. And speaking of that, do you want me to come down for moral support when you see Nico? I will. Just say the word._

_I don't mean actually sit there when you do see him; I know this is something you have to do yourself just as I must deal with my own son. But if you need me to be physically near you before and after you have your time with him, I will. Let me know, and I'll work out a schedule._

_At any rate, when you do come home, I'd like our time together, our first time, to be special. Of course it will be special, but I thought you might like us to go away for a few days if possible. Just you and me. Getting to know one another. In the Biblical sense, if you know what I mean. I know that you do, of course. I just like thinking about it and expressing it as much as I can in as many ways as possible. (Don't laugh, Ruth. That spoils the effect, you know. You're supposed to be blushing.)  
_

_And now I'm finding myself smiling at the prospect. Really smiling, Ruth. (So, are you blushing?) And I really am smiling, you know. Thinking about you in ALL WAYS that is. And make no mistake, Ruth. I do. Every night.  
_

_Hurry home. (When it's right, of course. And I'll be there, waiting for you.)_

_I love you,_

_- Harry _

He hits SEND. Then shutting the laptop, he goes over to his bed and lies down on it. Still smiling, he falls fast asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

-14-

After parking her Clio in the car park, Ruth walks the few hundred feet to the marina. Although the temperature in Crete is comparatively mild by London's standards at this time of year, nevertheless, it has dropped since Ruth first arrived there. Now she wears a light jacket, often removing it at midday. But at this time in the morning, she is thankful for it and the bright sun as she once again picks her way past the gently bobbing vessels moored in their slips.

Almost by intuition, she makes her way passing many locals most of whom wave at her and call out good morning. Others simply smile and nod; she in in turn, does the same. She knows she will miss the people and the island. But she also knows that her time here is coming to an end. And as much as she will always love Crete and the people, she knows as well that her true home is not here.

Neither of course is Harry.

For the last time she believes, she walks the pier, past the recreational vessels until she comes to the commercial slips. The ferries are there as expected, but the _Argos_ is nowhere to be found. Perhaps its captain is making a run to Cyprus, she thinks, or somewhere in the Mediterranean, towing some unfortunate vessel back to the safety of the harbor. She smiles thinking of Stefanos at the helm, cap pulled over his eyes, squinting into the horizon, wearing his standard uniform of sorts: denim shirt, light blue jeans and sneakers sans laces. Even though she knows it is futile, she spends a few more minutes looking for him. Finally, she accepts that he really is not there. She's sorry for this on more than one level. The first of course is to say goodbye; the other far more troublesome because she can no longer put off what she knows she must do.

The irony is not lost on her: she procrastinates in doing the very action which initially drew her to Greece. And if not for Harry's intervention, she would have done so with disastrous results. She shudders inwardly thinking of the awful repercussions if he had not stopped her; if he had not managed to reach her in her confused state; if he had not loved her so much and followed her to Greece; if he had not taken such care of her; and finally, if he had not trusted her enough to let her go and allow her to find herself once more. But he did. And because he did, she is no longer confused. No longer lost. Yet even as she knows this, it is only now that she truly hesitates to act.

She walks over to the bench near the marina and sits down. She's forgotten her hat, and she shades her eyes with her hand, looking out at the water. Abruptly, she stands and walks a few steps away from the bench. Then she walks back to it but does not sit down. Finally, still standing, she flips open her mobile. She dials.

* * *

_Harry:_

_I spoke with Athena, Nico's aunt, today. It was awkward, one could say. But after I made my intention clear, she softened a bit and told me she would get back to me with an answer. She is still upset, of course, about George. But I don't think she blames me as quite as much as I thought she would. At least she did not say so; of course, I cannot blame her if she does. But her true concern is for Nico; I told her that I feel the same and will abide by her wishes whatever they are. After I said that, she said my visit might be be good for him. And that he mentions me from time to time. But she wants to discuss it with his therapist first. I'm glad that he has professional support even though it pains me _why_ he does.__ But it is probably one of the reasons why he is doing so well. At any rate, I do hope his therapist agrees with Athena. I also told her that I will say whatever she and the therapist deem appropriate. As I'm not sure sure what to say, actually, I will be glad for any suggestions either might have for me. Perhaps I will just smile at him and let him do the talking. _

_-Ruth

* * *

_**Ruth, my love, **

**_You will find the words. If I can after years of disappointing my son, I am sure that you can. Children have an amazing capacity for healing. And forgiving. We can learn much from them. Please let me know what happens._**

**_-Harry

* * *

_**

_Harry:_

_ Athena called. She said YES. Nico's therapist agrees with Athena! And as as long as I adhere to certain subjects, my visit will be fine, perhaps healthy for him to see me. This of course all hinged upon whether he actually wanted to see me. I don't think I took a breath all day until I heard back from Athena. And he wants to see me. He DOES. Isn't that wonderful? I can hardly believe it! But now I need to be calm. Not so easy, but I will be. For Nico's sake. He deserves no less.  
_

_Harry. I'm going to see him._

_-Ruth

* * *

_

**_Ruth, my love:_**

**_Do not worry so. Just be yourself. Know that I am thinking of you._**

**_Harry_**

_

* * *

_

_Harry:_

_Nico is so big! So tall! And slender. Oh, he is going to be such a handsome young man someday! And those dimples! Yes, he smiled at me. At first he was a bit shy. But then he smiled. A lot. First, we sat and had some biscuits; I had tea; he had his with milk, still his favourite. After, he showed me his schoolwork; he's an A student! But of course I'm not surprised at this. Not one bit! And his room! He's so proud of it! He's into astronomy, and he has lots of glow-in- the-dark decals on his ceiling and walls. When he turned off the light, everything glowed. It was beautiful. Then he pointed out the planets and stars and knew each and every one, even the constellations! He also had mobiles that he and his friends had built together. They hang them with invisible nylon string from the ceiling so they look as if they are actually in flight. Oh, I wish you could have seen how proud he was! He truly is a wonderful boy. And appears to be very happy as well. I find it nothing short of a miracle given the circumstances. I will be forever grateful to Athena for taking such loving care of him. And you, too, Harry. If not for you, my intended visit (if one could even call it that) would have been -well, I'd rather not think of it._

_And by the end of the visit, he actually hugged me goodbye! And best of all, he wanted to know if he could see me again. Can you imagine? I didn't know what to say, so I looked over to Athena, and she nodded. She nodded. I get to see him again. And he also has my email, and I have his. It's all too wonderful and I..have to log off now since I'm having trouble actually seeing the keyboard...  
_

_-Ruth

* * *

_

**_Ruth:_**

**_I couldn't be happier for you. I love you._**

**_Harry.

* * *

_**Not long after her visit with Nico, Ruth heads down to the marina again. As she makes her way down the pier, this time the_ Argo_s is clearly visible. So is its captain. He's on the deck, pointing at the helm to a member of his crew. Somehow Stefanos senses her standing at the bow of his tug. He turns to her.

"Jo." He says, a big smile on his weathered face. "Don't tell me you need passage to Cyprus again so soon?"

She smiles up at him, shaking her head a bit." Actually, Milos, I'm here to say goodbye."

His smile fades. "Are you leaving us?"

"I'm afraid so." She says. "And I couldn't go without saying goodbye to you. And thanking you for everything you've done for me."

He nods a bit sadly. "What are friends for? So," he says after a moment, "You are are going back to London. And ...Henry?"

" I am." She says, letting her reply speak for itself.

He nods. "I am not surprised." He manages a smile. "And I hope that you will be happy, Jo. But," he adds, " I suppose I will never see you again."

She shakes her head at him. "You won't get rid of me so easily. I love Crete, and I made some wonderful friends here, including you." She looks up at him and smiles. "And I also have a personal connection to ...some family I care about here and will visit from time to time. So you will see me again, if it's all right with you."

His smile is genuine this time. "You know it is. And," he adds, "feel free to bring Henry. The banker." Despite the sudden gleam that appears in Stefano's eyes, Ruth keep her face impassive as she extends her hand. "'Til then, Milos."

"Till then," he says, shaking her hand. She turns to go, then stops. "By the way, my good friends call me Ruth."

His deep-set eyes open at that. "Ah." He says, "Ruth." He pauses for a moment. "It suits you."

"You don't seem surprised," she says.

"In my business, very little does." He touches the brim of his cap. "_Yia'sou_, Ruth."

"Goodbye, Milos." She says and smiles. And turning for good this time, she heads back to her car. And finally begins her journey home.


	15. Chapter 15

_How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. Elizabeth Barrett Browning  
_

15-

**HEATHROW AIRPORT:**

_Voice mail_:** Ruth. Can you forgive me? I cannot come to the airport. All hell's broken loose here. You know that is the only reason, the only reason I would not be there to greet you. Call me when you get in, please. Doesn't matter when. Just call me. I love you.**

_TEXT_: _Harry. What's happened?_

_TEXT_:** Ruth. Not to worry. All ok. Will call you when I can. Meeting. HS. Sorry. Again.

* * *

**

As soon as she gets off the plane, she goes straight to the arrival gate and sees the crowd gathered around each big screen monitor suspended from above. All eyes look up at each one; she looks up at one, too, just a few feet from her.

"A bomb has been dismantled in the underground, near Charing Cross. Fortunately, there are no reports of injures to either those on the tube or those who actually dismantled it. How all this came to be, who is responsible for this, the authorities are not saying at this time. We shall, of course, stay on top of this situation as we learn more information."

Her eyes widen. She texts him again. _Arrived. Just saw the news. How awful. Glad things ok. You ok? Pls. don't worry about me. Will take care of myself. Soon, my love.

* * *

_

Harry surreptitiously flips his mobile open and quickly reads the last message. There is no way, however, that he can actually respond to her. Although his texting skills are good, they are not good enough to quietly send her one especially when the Home Secretary is just mere feet away, along with the JIC, the Home Office, and Other Important People, as Harry likes to refer to them when they are not actually making him grit his teeth.

"And…" He pauses. All follow the HS's gaze. " Sir Harry?" The Home Secretary says, "Is there something you wish to share with the rest of us?"

Collectively, the entire body of Very Important People gathered around the conference table turn towards him and wait for his answer.

"No, Home Secretary," Harry blandly replies, snapping his mobile shut. "Just checking. Everything seems to be in order, given the circumstances." He adds the last, reckoning the truth if not exactly the whole truth, should satisfy the HS; especially so when the big man gives him that_ look_, which is most of the time, it seems to Harry.

The HS gestures to the one empty seat left at the conference table. "Let's chat, Sir Harry."

"Yes," Harry says, tucking himself under the table. "Let's." Picking up the paper in front of him, he sighs inwardly keeping his face perfectly impassive. He knows it's going to be a long day, if not longer evening.

* * *

_Finally, _he thinks, he can actually call her back. But he waits until he is back in his car to do so, mobile firmly pressed to his ear. There is no answer. He frowns. He calls Beth at Ruth's s place. "Is she home, yet?" There is no need for him to say exactly who he means; Beth knows exactly who Harry means.

"No. Harry, Not here. Not yet," she says. "I'm sure," she says into the silence, "it's due to what happened today. Traffic is...well, it took me forever to get home, Not only is Charing cordoned off, Shaftesbury Ave and Charing are a nightmare as well. In fact, the whole area's a mess. As I'm sure you know."

"You're probably right," he says, not wanting to unduly worry his junior officer who has only recently begun to seem a bit more like herself, especially more so it seems, at Ruth's impending arrival. _But why isn't she here?_

As if she hears him, Beth says, "Maybe she had difficultly getting out of Heathrow."

"Right," he says. And …thanks." He rings off. But it still doesn't tell him why she doesn't answer her phone. His stomach starts its familiar dance, and he grimaces against the pain. Automatically, he heads to his only place of true clarity, if not actual solace, the Grid. As soon as he steps onto it, he sees that his office is lit up. It looks brighter than usual in contrast to the rest of the dimly work stations. He heads towards the beacon of light, holding his breath. He is sure, quite sure as is his frugal habit, that he had turned off the light when he left hours ago. He walks in.

"Hi." She says, stepping into the light, tanned and more beautiful than he remembers.

"God," is all he can think to say, standing perfectly still. "What are you doing here?"

She smiles, not moving either. "Is that all you can say, Harry?"

"My God?" He adds, swallowing noisily. He takes a few steps towards her, then.

She smiles again and waits for him to come closer. He takes another few steps and when he is close enough to touch her, she says, "Take me home, Harry. Please."

He nods, his arms still at his sides, eyes still locked on her. "I spoke to Beth. I guess you should let her know that you're on your way and…"

She shakes her head, still smiling." Not my home. Yours."

"Mine?"

"I didn't come all this way for you to drop me off at my place. As much as I like Beth, I'd rather spend my homecoming with you. Unless ...you rather that I didn't?" She says, her smile now a bit uncertain.

He clears his throat. Twice. "I thought. I mean, I booked a room for us. For the week-end. You know. This week-end. Not this evening." He stops talking and just stares at her.

"I see." She says, her tone more uncertain than ever. Then she nods. "Of course. You've had a dreadful day. I understand." Picking her chin up, she holds his gaze.

He blinks. Then he reaches for the blinds, shutting them in one fluid motion. Still saying nothing, he goes over to the door and locks it as well. Giving thanks that his synapses have finally, mercifully fired up, he finds his voice. "Come here. I haven't given you a proper welcome I'm afraid. And," he adds, his eyes shining, "I'd like to remedy that."

But she stays exactly where she is. "Are you sure?" She asks, a soft smile on her face.

"Ruth. Here. Now."

She complies. And as she does, his arms go around her. "God," he says again, his lips brushing her hair, breathing in her scent. Then he steps back as if getting leverage. Bending down, he brushes his lips against hers, then kisses her. Soft. Gentle, Chaste. A promise only. But his pounding heart belies the delicacy of the kiss. He feels her trembling in his arms as well, and he tightens his grip around her. "Harry," she says, looking up at him, her eyes luminous, "Not here. Please. Not here."

"Of course," he says automatically. "Whatever you say." He says as breathless as she. He pulls back, his eyes drinking her in. "I…God. Ruth. You're here. Really here."

"I am." She says. And smiles. "Now. Take me home."

"Are you sure? Please say you are," he adds quickly.

"Need you ask?"

"Just trying to be the the gentleman. You know. All proper. Victorian."

"Harry," she says softly, "There is nothing Victorian about you. At all. And," she says, as he begins to help her on with her coat, "that's entirely fine. In fact, I now think you the more scholarly type."

"Me. Scholarly?" He looks at her bemused, adjusting her collar just so.

She nods. "In all things. Biblical, that is."

"The Bible?" He wonders why he is having such trouble understanding what she is saying this evening.

"As in knowing one—in the Biblical sense, of course." Her dimples flash.

When he smiles, it lights up his entire face. "Blasphemer," he says, and goes over to the door, unlocking it as quickly as he can.

She nods. "Yes. I intend to sin this entire weekend." And..." She stops, looking up at him in astonishment. " Harry. Are you…blushing?"

"Of course, not," He says, trying to shut the light out as quickly as he can. "Absolutely not. "

"Are you sure?" she asks again.

"Absolutely not," he repeats as firmly as he can, tucking her arm into his. "Of course not," he continues to protest ...all the way home.

* * *

***EPILOGUE to follow for those who wish to read on.*(otherwise, consider this the end of Kardia Mou.)  
**

**[Please note. This fic IS rated M for a reason: chapter 16-soon to follow. Please heed the warning. Thanks.]**

**And of course: thanks for reading/feedback! It's been great fun! :)  
**


	16. Chapter 16

_**RATED M for a reason; therefore, if you would rather NOT read H/R **_**i_n_**_****__ flagrante delicto_ and find such material offensive, please do not read the following. 

-16- Epilogue: Part I (one more chapter after this.)

He lifts her shirt off of her, she helping him. For a moment he can say nothing. Do nothing. Just stare. Her bra is lacy. Black. He knows he's stopped breathing. But he remembers to breathe once again, and when he does he says what he's been saying or thinking the entire evening since she's been home. "God."

She smiles at him. And waits.

But he stands there. Not uncertain. Simply marking the moment. When he has, he reaches for her, his touch light as a feather, running his hand up and down her sides. Her shoulders. Her stomach. Her breasts, but there, only for a moment. Then he reaches around her back, searching for the hook.

"It's in the front," she says, quietly, a Mona Lisa smile on her face.

His hands continue to fumble for the hook in the back.

"It's in the front," she says again a bit louder this time. But it only really registers to him what she is saying when she begins to reach for the hook herself. He nearly slaps her hands away, but stops himself in time. "Me do." He says, not realising he's spoken out loud.

"Me do," She says. And giggles.

"_Let_ me do," He amends. And he does. Perfectly, her breasts peeking through. Gently, he slips his hands beneath each lacy panel, completely exposing her breasts. Taking a breath, he reaches up, slipping her straps down and away. The bra falls to the ground like a waterfall. He stands back and studies her again. "My God," he says again as if he's finally found religion.

Again, he runs his hands up her sides. But this time when they rest on her bare breasts, she shivers. She reaches for his belt and tugs at it, but finds it unyielding.

He almost smiles. "Here," he says, never taking his eyes off her. Expertly, he unbuckles it and yanks it off in one smooth movement. He drops it, the buckle thudding dully when it hits the floor. It sits next to her bra.

Her hands reach for his trousers. Again, she finds it difficult and only manages to unhook the top button. She stops but not before brushing her hand against him. He makes an indistinguishable, ancient sound of pleasure. Then he unzips his trousers, slowing just a bit over the straining material. But the trousers soon come off, she helping him a bit as he steps out of them. It too falls next to the belt and bra. And in moments, he is standing there in his navy blue pinstriped boxers, his desire for her blatant. Glorious. She cannot take her eyes off of it. But when he begins to pull his undershirt off, she diverts her gaze long enough to help him pull it over his head. It joins the rest of the clothes on the floor.

They face one another. He in his boxers, she topless, still wearing her long skirt with the slit running up the side. He steps in closer to her, pressing himself into her while his hands go around her, reaching for the back zipper to her skirt. He unzips this with ease, and it is his turn to help her out of it. She drops it next to the pile of clothes on the floor. And when she does, he backs up just a bit, drinking her in again, she standing in front of him in her lacy black knickers. They move in towards each other and when their arms finally go around one another, they shiver.

And then he begins to run his hands up and down her, this time in earnest. His mouth follows, nuzzling her, nipping her. She runs her hands up and down him, too. Breathing heavily, they pull apart and in concert, move towards their goal. His bed. He grabs the covers and yanks them down. An image flashes before him when he had done the same for her in Crete. But this time is different. So very different.

Seconds later, they tumble onto the bed, he supporting her best he can with one hand behind her back. She lies supine, he positioning himself on top of her. He pushes her knees apart with one leg. And when he presses himself on top of her, both become believers. "God," they chant in unison.

And then he slows a bit. He begins to nuzzle her neck, her shoulders, and the hollow of her neck. Her arms are around him, caressing his arms, his face, his back, as he continues his gentle exploration of her.

He turns his face to hers, kisses her. Gently at first. Then harder, matching the pressure of his body on top of her. When he slips his tongue into her mouth, she welcomes him with her own. His hands drop lower. Lower. And lower still until he stops, touching her bare leg. Then moves up again. Higher. And higher still until he is caressing her inner thighs. His hand rises again until they come to the inner panel of her knickers. He rests his hand there, feeling her heat. Her unmistakable desire for him.

In one sudden movement, he slips his hand under the material. And into her. All of her. "Yes." She moans. Yes," He pulls her knickers down and off of her quickly. But now when he touches her again, it is gentle, slow, even as his other hand caresses her soft belly, reaching higher up to her breasts, stroking them. He begins to murmur in her ear, sending more shock waves throughout her senses. Picking his head up, he begins to move away from her. Lower. And lower. And lower still until she begins to pant in anticipation. He obliges, and in seconds, she begins to moan in earnest while he keeps one hand on her belly, trying to contain her.

"Harry. " She says, her voice ragged, 'I want you. Now." She reaches blindly towards him. He picks his head up and looks at her. Almost reluctantly, he stops. Then he begins to climb back up towards her. When he does, she slips her hand through the slit of his boxers and finds him.

He groans.

"I want you," she says again. "Now." And she grips him with all her might. "Now." She pulls at the waistband of his boxers, but he stays her hand and pulls them off of himself, flinging them over the bed. It, the final bit of clothing, the last remnant of their previous lives, is now shed along with the rest of their past. Their breath matches their actions, fast and furious. When he positions himself directly over her, arms supporting him, her legs immediately wrap around him. Instantly, he is where she wants him to be. Where he wants to be. Where they need to be. Where they belong.

They move in tandem. Their breathing ragged. Skin flushed. Sticky. Hot. Neither care that it happens so quickly. They want it to happen quickly. She is still crying out, still shuddering, when he cries out as well. She holds onto him, rocking with him, her legs still around him, ankles crossed for good measure. When he tries to shift his weight off of her, she croaks, "Don't. Don't move. "

"Crushing... you." He gasps.

"No. Stay." She clamps her legs around him tighter.

But he shifts enough to satisfy both of them. No longer crushing her, but still together. And their hearts beating as one, they sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

_"The course of true love never did run smooth." Shakespeare. A Midsummer Night's Dream_

Chapter 17 epilogue II ( and mildly suggestive)

When she opens her eyes, he is on his side and staring at her, a soft smile on his face.

"Hi." He says. "What are you doing over there?"

"I don't know." She says smiling back, her voice equally soft.

"C'mere," he says and pats the bed. She shifts a bit until she is back in his arms. She plucks at the sheet draped over her with a look of puzzlement.

"I covered you." He says. "But you were passed out and don't remember," he adds with an unmistakable note of pride.

"Oh I was, was I?" She snuggles in more as he adjusts the sheet over her. "I seem to remember," she says into his chest. "That you were passed out as well."

"Ah," is all he says, his words now caught in her hair. "But I remember everything, unlike you."

Picking her head up, she looks at him. "Well, I distinctly remember that you said, 'Me do.'"

"What?" He says.

She enunciates each word. 'Me do.'" She giggles, her dimples flashing. "That's what you said."

"I did not." He says with as much firmness he can muster.

"Oh, you most certainly did." And her dimples become even more pronounced.

"I said, '_Let _me do.' You were just too excited to hear me right." He says and begins to gently nip her ear.

"Nonsense," she manages to say, despite the chills running up and down her body, "I heard you loud and clear. You said, ' Mmm…'"and he presses his lips to hers, effectively shutting her up. Then he pulls back a bit. "Now hear_ this:_ "I love you."

"I know." She says and snuggles into his chest. She begins to stroke the soft hairs on it.

"And?"

"You know how I feel." She says, still stroking his chest.

He stills her hand. "Say it."

"I ...love... you. " She says, then rests her head on his hand.

"Louder," he says.

"I love you," she says again.

"Show me," he says. "Again."

She does.

* * *

Later, much later, they nestle together, her back pressing into him, his arm wrapped around her. They fit perfectly. And though he cannot see her, he knows she is awake as well.

"Hi," he says into her ear.

"Hi," she says, not turning to face him.

He touches her shoulder, but it is no longer soft, yielding. "What is it?" He says, all sleep suddenly gone from his voice.

"Nothing. Really." She says, still not turning around.

He sits up and with some difficulty manages to turn her towards him. But she still doesn't meet his eyes.

" Just …still asleep." She says, her eyes downcast.

"Ruth. What is it?"

When she doesn't answer, he goes on. "Are you ok? Have I? Are you?" Unconsciously, his gaze drops lower somewhere near her lap.

She looks up and instantly understands. "Oh, no. Harry. I'm fine. Really. " She touches his face, suddenly gone pale. "I'm happy. Truly." And she manages a wan smile.

"Bollocks." He says. "I know happy and this isn't it."

"I am. I am." She looks away again.

"Ruth," he says in his best Section Chief Voice, "Look at me and tell me what is going on."

She looks at him, her eyes brimming.

"That's enough." He says. "I mean it. Start talking."

She almost smiles at the absurdity of his pulling rank. In his bedroom. With her. Now.

"You make me happy. You do." She emphasizes the last word. "And that's the problem."

"What?" he says, frowning.

She takes a breath. "How do I explain this to you when I can't explain it to myself?"

"Try, " he says.

"I feel bad that I don't feel bad."

"What?" He says again, frowning even more. You're not making any sense."

"I don't feel guilty," she says slowly, "that I'm happy. Which makes me feel guilty. "

This time he doesn't say 'what.' But it's still written all over his face.

"And," she asks, very softly now, "What kind of person does that make me?"

"I don't understand." He says.

"You know."

"I really don't." He says, sighing.

"George."

"Ah." He says, "I see." But he is not sure he actually does..

"Had he not…died. I wouldn't be. Here. With you. But I'm happy. With you. And I don't feel bad about it, either. I mean," she adds hurriedly. " I mean not about us. I mean..." He begins to stroke her arm, and she takes a another breath. "Not what happened to him. Of course. I feel bad about that. I always will. But that's not what I mean. I'm happy. But he—"

"Ruth." He finally says, speaking as gently as he can, "From what you've told me of him, he was a good and kind man. A doctor. A healer. And I 'm sure he loved you very much. Do you really think that he would want you to feel guilty? Be unhappy? Because you're happy?"

She opens her mouth, but he cuts her off. "Before you answer, consider this. If the situation were reversed, and God forbid you ...well..." He trails off a bit before going on. " Would you want George to feel guilty? Because he finally found some happiness?"

She swallows, her mouth suddenly dry.

"And what if it were me instead of George?"

"Harry." She says.

"I mean it. I'm a jealous man, true. And the idea of you and someone.. ….But I know if I were to die—"

"Harry, don't say—"

"I would want you to be happy. I would. Because," he says and touches her face, "because I love you."

She stares at him, her eyes never leaving his face.

"Don't diminish his memory. His love for you. Who he was as a person. Grieve. Love him still. But continue to live. To love." He speaks the last very softly. " I know he would want you to. "

Her chest rises and falls at his words. She waits for him to go on.

"And we're here. Now. In love. And you have a right to be happy. You do, Ruth. You do." He stops then and waits.

She finally speaks, running her tongue over her lips. "But what kind of person does that make me?"

"A human being, Ruth. Same as the rest. Imperfect. Alive." He pulls her towards him "Loved."

She sighs but holds onto him. "Love is never easy, is it?"

"_We're_ not easy. But," he says, holding her even tighter, "we're together. We are. And that's what really matters."

"Yes." she says, holding onto him as well. "We are."

-The beginning-

(But end for us.)

* * *

Again, many, many thanks for reading, your encouragement and interest in this story. It's been a singular pleasure sharing this humble fic with you! And NOW I feel the need to write some fluff! (H/R—of course! So stay tuned. Please!) 'Till then, xoxo


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